Next morning, with a fresh breeze, bright sun, and a clear sky, we left this immortal and delightful spot, where avenues of orange-trees, loaded with ripe fruit, ornament both sides of the streets; and at the same time, “by the bizarrerie of nature,” the chain of mountains which surround this romantic spot are always covered with snow. In ten minutes we were again launched upon the wide ocean. Though the sea was not so rough, the waves dashed about furiously, and made the vessel roll even more than the day before. This is always the case after a gale. We were all much amused at the _restaurateur_ of the steamer, who kept cursing everybody, because all his glass and crockery were smashed to pieces; and all because, as he declared, the vessel had started before she had been properly fitted up. The Captain, in trying to soothe him, drove him raving mad, and he commenced throwing overboard all the plates, dishes, and glass on which he could lay his hands. At length he caught hold of a leg of mutton, and was about to serve it in the same manner. I happened to be near him, and not quite approving of casting good victuals overboard while at sea, I took upon myself to object to this part of his proceedings. I was the more induced to do this because I had promised my illustrious _compagnons de voyage_ to look after the cook and his cooking, with which he really took much pains, and gave us great satisfaction. The infuriated Marseillais poured a volley of the most foul language in his Provençal dialect, while he and I were holding the doomed leg of mutton. He then asked me who I was? “A passenger,” I replied; “and one who has a most decided objection to your feeding the fish--with legs of mutton,” I continued, boldly. He then gave it up; and, in acknowledging he was in the wrong, exclaimed, at the top of his voice, “I wish you no harm, but I should be highly pleased if you and all in the steamer were at the bottom of the sea.” “Wherefore?” “You ask me wherefore! Because I shall lose above a thousand francs.” [Illustration: COOKING ON THE MAGIC STOVE IN THE ACROPOLIS AT ATHENS.] “The directors will make that up,” I said. “Not a sous,” said he. The comical part of this scene was enhanced by the continual rolling of the ship. This incident kept us alive till we reached Messina. The following letter, addressed to the _Illustrated London News_, will explain my subsequent proceedings:-- ACROPOLIS, ATHENS, _March 18_.